The Sorrow of War
by Logan Parker
Summary: Darry, Soda, and Pony, knew what it was like to be at war with people they barely knew. However, nothing can prepare them for the sorrow of war when Darry is drafted to Vietnam in one of the most controversial wars in American history. Rated T on hiatus
1. Chapter 1

**The Sorrow of War**

**Summary: **Darry, Soda, and Pony, knew what it was like to be at war with people they barely knew. For as long as they could remember the three of them had been fighting the clash of social classes in their own city. However, nothing can prepare them for the sorrow of war when Darry is drafted to Vietnam in one of the most controversial wars in American history. Darry is forced to leave Soda and Pony behind in a broken foster home and venture into the savagery over seas. Meanwhile America is experiencing a rash social upheaval, drawing teens by the dozens to the anti-war demonstrations of the counterculture. Will Pony and Soda become contaminated after losing their last brick of stability? And will Darry live to see the peace-pleading insanity?

**Note**: Rated T for language and drug use in later chapters.

**Chapter 1**

_Soda_

I wasn't sure what to think, or say, or do, when the bus drove off that carried my brother away. With Mom and Dad and Johnny and Dallas it was all so sudden we didn't have time to think about it. It wasn't like this. This was worse. This we knew about and couldn't prepare for. It was cruel and unusual punishment. And for what? What had we done this time?

Pony turned pleading eyes to me and I gave him the best It'll-be-okay-I-promise smile I could offer. He quickly looked back down at his shoes telling me he didn't buy it. I didn't buy it either. War wasn't for people like Darry. Darry was twenty years old with too much to handle as it was. After Mom and Dad died Darry had done everything in his power to make sure we weren't taken from him. And for what?

The social worker cleared his throat sympathetically and looked at us with knowing eyes. I knew what he wanted. He wanted me to understand that _he_ was trying to understand what it must feel like to lose another person. He wanted us to know that life went on and he had places to go and people to see and things to do. Oddly, I understood this.

"Got everything Pone?" I asked unnecessarily. Darry had helped the two of us load our things into the second vehicle before he left. Our lawyer, Mr. Lee, had pulled as many strings possible to ensure that Pony and I were in the same home. It wasn't easy considering how over populated the foster care system was, but after explaining our 'circumstances' a family had finally decided to take us in together. Pony and I had only met them once before Darry had to leave. Including Pony and I, they had eight foster kids.

"Yeah. It's all in there," He answered, turning on his heel abruptly and walking to the car. He sent me one last pleading look before opening the door to the backseat and climbing in. I felt like a failure. If only I was a few years older, then Pony and I could stay at our house and I could keep my job at the DX. Things would be better then. Not good, but better.

"You ready Sodapop?" The social worker asked, smoothing down his tie patiently. I nodded curtly before following the same motions my brother had. Before I could enter the car though, the man placed a reassuring hand on my shoulder.

"Mrs. James will drive you to your new…_temporary_ house," He informed me, gesturing to the lady in the driver's seat. "I'll be right behind you guys with your things. Just, ah, call me if you need anything," He said, handing me a business card before walking towards the vehicle with our luggage in it. I stared down at the card emotionlessly, taking notice of the name.

**Mr. J. P. ****McMurphy**

**Special Investigator for Child Protective Services**

**Office Phone: 985-6087**

I noticed that he didn't say we were going to our new _home_, and for that I liked him. I hastily shoved the card into my back pocket and climbed into the car beside my brother.

---

_Darry_

I snuck one last glance at my brothers through the bus window, thinking how I must be the worst brother in the world for leaving them like this. They didn't deserve this. Pony was still getting over Johnny's death, and Soda wasn't completely recovered from Sandy. Silently I began to list all the reason why the life of Darrel Curtis sucked. I stopped somewhere around reason twenty-four when the sudden desire to stop the bus and run back to my brothers overcame me. I didn't want to leave them. I missed them. And I had only been away for…thirty-three minutes.

I was a twenty-year old kid who knew nothing about the war or Vietnam or fighting. Up until they had dragged me to basic training, I had never even shot a gun before. I never needed to. All the while I made sure to hide how much the sound of a firing gun bothered me to my brothers. I didn't need them worrying about things like that. Still, the bullets through the air…the sound of metal penetrating through human flesh…it reminded me of Dallas.

For a complete twenty seconds I was sure I was going to be sick. I had thought about telling the bus driver to pull over so I wouldn't make a fool of myself by throwing up all over the bus floor. But then the feeling past and I was left alone with my thoughts again. I made a promise to Dallas right then that I would never shoot another person. Not ever. No matter what.

I wanted nothing more than to fall into a dreamless sleep, but all I could think about was Pony and Soda's faces as I drove away. They were losing another person right when things were starting to look up. Pony and I had promised to stop fighting and his grades were up to par and Soda was almost seventeen. He was trying to talk me into letting him ride at Buck's for his birthday which I had told him would happen when hell froze over. I only hoped he listened to me. The last thing I needed was for him to get hurt while I was away.

The bus stopped to let on more anxious soldiers, both drafted and otherwise, and the rallies outside were getting stronger the closer we got the big cities. I had heard a lot about the protests and activists, but living in a small town sheltered us from those types of things. A beer bottle hit the bus window and shattered on impact. Guys with long, greasy, hair and girls with heavy peace-sign necklaces ranted and raved.

_At least my brothers are away from this_, I thought. _This…is absolute madness._

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This story is inspired by the book, _The Sorrow of War_, by Bao Ninh. Comments/questions/reviews are much appreciated.


	2. Chapter 2

**The Sorrow of War**

**Chapter 2**

_Pony_

For the first time in my life I understood the phrase, "it felt like the twilight zone". The street where Mr. and Mrs. Jason lived resembled the Jewish ghettos we had learned about in school. The places no one could get out of. The places no one wanted to get sucked into. And here I was…getting sucked in.

"Chester will show you around. Oh honey, don't be shy, we don't bite," Mrs. Jason said in what she hoped was a friendly voice. It was friendly…too friendly. Not motherly friendly or controlling friendly, just from friend-to-friend friendly. It was oddly uncomforting.

"Thanks ma'am, he's just shy," Soda answered, trying to sound as polite as possible. These people were our only chance of staying together. Whatever together meant.

"Please, call me Sadie," She replied, smiling to show well-abused teeth. She was obviously a smoker and for a moment I had seriously thought about quitting. Soda didn't get a chance to reply because the kid she called Chester grabbed at our bags and grunted for us to follow him. Sadie nodded for us to go ahead, and we walked behind the large boy apprehensively.

"You guys'll be sharin' a room with me," Chester announced, tossing us a crooked smile over his shoulder. At first I thought it might had been malicious, but I reconsidered this notion as his…_our_… bedroom door opened to reveal brightly painted walls, decorated with peace signs and smudged rainbows.

"You can paint your own walls?" Soda asked excitedly and I had to smile. It was the first time I had heard him excited about anything in a long time. Chester nodded proudly and let our bags bang to the floor.

"Yep. Course we can. I did this myself. You like to paint?" He asked Soda enthusiastically. I studied the room more closely, noting the unmade bunk bed beside the piles of books with Nietzsche written across them.

"I like colors," Soda admitted, enthralled with the half-assed morals. "I aint no artist though. Pony here," He continued, gesturing at me proudly. "He can draw real good." Chester looked at me in with sudden interest.

"Really? Then we'll havta get started on a new design. You read Nietzsche?" He answered, gesturing to the pile of books I was still staring at. I looked away embarrassed.

"What?" I asked back, unsure of the question. I had never heard of Nietzsche before. Chester smiled again and reached for one of the books, tossing it to me.

"Friedrich Nietzsche. He was an existentialist. Read it, it's good stuff," He told me. I looked at the title curiously.

_The Birth of Tragedy, Out of the Spirit of Music_

I silently wondered if there actually was one moment in time when tragedy was born. I knew for myself, it was the night my parents died. But tragedyin general…

"You guy'll sleep on this bed," He said, breaking me out of my reverie. "Since you're brothers n' all," He added quickly. Soda and I nodded our consent at the anxious-to-please kid in front of us.

"T-Bird and I will take the bunk bed," He continued, trying to make conversation.

"T-Bird?" Soda inquired humorously. Chester grinned and pulled out a bag of weed.

"Yep. His nickname. His real name is Tommy Bird, but no one calls him that. And I'm Chester Cat. You'll meet all the guys later and we'll find a name for the two of you eventually," He stated with pride. Soda and I tossed questioning glances but didn't voice them.

"Grass?" Chester questioned, tossing the bag to Soda. Soda caught it offhandedly and tossed it back to him.

"No thanks," Soda politely declined. "We only smoke cigarettes. Chester laughed loudly and shoved the weed back into its place under our bed.

"Give it some time. You'll try eventually," Chester promised with a wild twinkling in his eyes. Soda and I looked at each other again but don't have the time to say anything. A door shut loudly and Chester shoved past us happily.

"Come on guys! Jay-Man is home!" Chester exclaimed excitedly. Soda and I were all but dragged into the living room where a husky man with long hair stood kissing Sadie.

"Soda….Pony…this is my Husband, Phil, but we all call him Jay-Man," Sadie introduced us. Soda silently marveled at Jay-Man's hair until he noticed.

"Haven't cut it for almost ten years," Jay-Man announced proudly, sticking out his left hand. "Glad to me ya boys, and welcome home." Soda shook his hand politely and I did the same, trying desperately to tear my eyes away from the colorful man. Luckily the front door swung open, offering a distraction, and two girls and three guys came pouring in.

"These are the new guys huh?" A girl asked with red-rimmed eyes. The guys sat large boxes down on the kitchen table that was already cluttered with random items.

"Daisy, this is Soda and Pony," Sadie answered, showing us off. Daisy nodded curtly and started unpacking the boxes.

"Well guys, come along, we have a lot to get in order for that rally tomorrow," Jay-Man ordered patiently. The other guys moved to the boxes, pulling out signs stuck to large sticks.

"You guys can carry these," A boy my age offered as if it were an honor. I stared at the sign emotionlessly, reading the bolded words:

**Draft Beer Not Boys! Bring Our Troops Home!**

_Darry_

I inwardly cringed when the site of the basic training camp came into view. The commanding officers gave orders to file off the bus and told us how everything was going to work.

"Tomorrow morning we ship out at 6 o' clock sharp. You men are to have everything packed and ready to leave for Saigon by 5:30. Breakfast is at 5 so I suggest you men cut the lights after drills. After we land in Saigon each of you will be directed to your unit where your new commanding officer will give you the down low from there. Don't do anything stupid," Lieutenant Cane yelled impatiently. By the looks of it he had a lot to do. I couldn't help but wonder if this was what I sounded like to Pony. God I hoped the two of them were okay.

I looked around me at the other men pouring into our tents to change into uniform. Most of the guys were boys only a couple years older than Soda. I subconsciously shuddered at the thought of Soda fighting in a war. He was only sixteen….almost seventeen. He still had another year and hopefully this war wouldn't last that long.

"Curtis?" A man asked, jogging to catch up to me. I fell back and looked at the man I had sat behind on the bus.

"Yes. You are…?" I answered distractively. I was too caught up thinking about my brothers and what they could be doing now to worry about what was going on around me._ You can't do that over there_, I chastised myself. _You'll be blown away so quickly-_

"Cut. Andrew Cut," He told me, offering me his hand. I shook it hastily and walked with him to our tent.

"I think we might be in the same unit over there," He told me. "Because of our names," He added when I looked at him skeptically. I nodded in understanding. Yes, if they went alphabetically…

"Those your kids that were with you? At the pick-up I mean?" He asked curiously. I laughed genuinely at his sincerity. Did I really look that old?

"My brothers," I answered to his questioning look. He smiled a little himself as he quickly changed into the drill uniform.

"Who was that guy with them then? Your father?" He continued, trying to hold a conversation. I changed as well and noticed how short Cut was. I would have to guess he was a year younger than me and four inches shorter than average.

"No…social worker," I answered after a pause. He looked as if he wanted to ask something else, but was cut off by the drill sergeant.

"Ladies, get your asses out here!" The man bellowed. Cut gestured towards the door with a tilt of his head.

"After you," He offered smugly. I laughed and made my way to the door, careful to keep all fear and hesitation out of my step.

"What Cut? We're going to hell in roughly 12 hours and you're trying to tell me you're afraid of a tiny, screaming man?" I taunted jokingly. Cut narrowed his eyes at my playfully and shoved passed me.

"Gimme a break Curtis, you aint the only greaser in this joint," He spat over his shoulder. I shook my head amusedly.

"That's for damn sure."

* * *

This story is inspired by the book, _The Sorrow of War_, by Bao Ninh. All references to the book will be explained in the author's notes. Questions/comments/reviews are greatly appreciated. 


	3. Chapter 3

**The Sorrow of War**

**Chapter 3**

_Darry_

It had been almost five weeks since I had seen or heard from my brothers. I had written them three times and received no reply to the letters. I had also tried calling them at their foster home and received no answer. It was starting to worry me.

"I'm tellin' ya man, I'm sure they're fine," Andrew tried to reassure me, though he wasn't very trusting with his mind fogged with _rosa__ canina_ (1). It didn't take long for the violence and death of the war to get to a lot of the soldiers, and they started looking for something to keep their mind off of the war quickly. _Rosa canina_ was exactly what they were looking for. I refused to touch it.

"Maybe they are," I agreed out loud, but inwardly I was starting to doubt it. Five weeks with no word. Five weeks of being shot at and watching men bleed to death without so much as a 'hi' from either of my kid brothers. I wasn't sure whether I should be more worried or hurt, but the worrywart in me chose the former.

My outfit had shipped out like Lieutenant Cane had warned us early the day after I drove off, leaving my distraught brothers behind. Since then, three of the men had been killed, and two more wounded and shipped home. I knew from the time the first man went down that I'd never sleep peacefully again.

For now I didn't care about that though. All I cared about was getting home to my brothers and making sure they were okay. I was sorely tempted to shoot myself in leg and go home, but then I looked at Cut and Jennings and Morgan, all who had families and children of their own, and I knew I couldn't do that. We were all in this together.

I grabbed my gun hastily, and pulled Cut up to his feet when a rain of bullets charged our way.

"Get down!" Our platoon leader ordered, aiming his gun at the oncoming fire. I dropped to my knees, pulling Cut with me. His shoulder was bleeding profusely, and I ripped off a piece of my shirts to strap over it.

"Cut! Andrew are you okay?" I called to him over the rush of speeding bullets and dropping bombs. He was shaking and over the noise I just barely made out what he said.

"My soul swims out of my corpse…and turns into a vampire…going off to suck human blood." (2)

* * *

_Soda_

The first protest we went to was bizarre. It consisted of 50 or so insane radicals waving signs around like maniacs. At least, that's what it seemed like at the time. But the more we got involved and the more people that showed up in support, the more sense it made. This war was wrong.

It took Pony more time than it took me to get to this point. He still wouldn't participate in the dope smoking and acid drinking parties Sadie and Jay-man threw. I always liked parties and grew into them fast, making best friends with Chester, T-Bird, and my other foster brothers and sisters. They called me 'Motley' since I was different than the average person. Pony refused to be called by anything other than his name, so the guys left him alone about it. I think he really missed Darry, whom we hadn't heard from since he left.

We were never home. We were protesting, shooting up at neighbors' houses, or planning some other kind of revolution. The excitement kept me from worrying too much about Darry. Sadie kept telling me that the more we protested, the quicker they'd bring the 'boys home'. Pony was worried that the protests were getting too violent; us attacking cops and cops attacking us. Chester had even been hit with a baton and put in jail for a night, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

Maybe Pony even resented me a little for getting involved. But he didn't understand. It was my job to bring Darry home, and I would do whatever I had to, to make that happen.

* * *

Rosa Canina is a drug (plant) many of the soldiers used in Vietnam.

This is a quote from the book, _The Sorrow of War_, by Bao Ninh

Please read and review and tell me what you think about this story.


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